


Strengths, Weaknesses, Oedipus, Tiresias

by anactoriatalksback



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: And Jared's....not as good as we think, Brief mentions of the sexual fantasies of a very excitable man, First Kiss, M/M, Richard is bad at feelings, SWOT boards, The Chugtai/Gilfoyle Tag Team of Torment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:05:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anactoriatalksback/pseuds/anactoriatalksback
Summary: Dinesh and Gilfoyle tell Richard Jared's in love with him. But Jared's convinced his love is maternal.Featuring SWOT boards and sweaty panicked confusion.





	1. Totally normal

‘Proposal: tell Richard that Jared has a giant thing for him.’

‘We don’t know if Jared’s thing _is_ giant.’

‘Fucking…ugh, sure. Proposal: tell Richard that Jared is in love with him. Happy now?’

‘No, I mean, we don’t wanna get Richard’s hopes up unfairly, so….’

‘Do you know it’s _not_?’

‘No, but do you know it _is_?’

‘Okay, fair. Proposal: telling Richard that Jared is in love with him. Strengths?’

Dinesh and Gilfoyle contemplate the SWOT board. At some point, they will acknowledge to themselves that they’ve used it about fifty times more often than Jared has, at least since he joined Pied Piper. At some point, they may even thank Jared for bringing it into their lives. But that point will not arrive today.

‘Strengths....’ muses Gilfoyle. ‘Richard’s face, for one.’

‘Richard stammering.’

‘Richard swallowing his own tongue.’

‘Is that a weakness?’

‘I feel like it’s a threat, maybe, at most.’

‘….Or an opportunity to use that Snapchat filter.’

‘…You are a crushingly banal tragedy, Dinesh.’

‘You wanna see the filter?’

‘……………Okay, I’ll give you that one. Opportunity it is.’

* * *

 

‘I’ll just drop these off at Bream Hall and then pick you up those antihistemines on my way back, Richard, we can’t have you blowing your nose into your sleeve before the RowanOakes meeting, now, can we?’

Richard writhes in his chair and twitches his mouth. ‘O-okay, Jared. Thanks for – yeah.’

Dinesh and Gilfoyle watch Jared leave, and then make their way over to Richard. Dinesh on his right, Gilfoyle – of course – on the left.

‘Jared’s awfully..concerned..about you, isn’t he?’, says Dinesh.

Richard looks up at them. ‘….fucking – I don’t know what this is, but, like, can we – just get to…whatever it is?’ He returns to his keyboard, clacking away. ‘And where are we with the build, anyway?’

Gilfoyle steps in before this heads into inconvenient territory. ‘Ever noticed how Jared is around you, Richard?’

Richard looks back up at Gilfoyle. ‘What? How he..what does this…’

‘He looks after you’, says Gilfoyle.

‘He brings you things’, says Dinesh.

‘He tucks in your collar.’

‘He stands so close to you that in some cultures you’d already be married.’

‘He says shit to your face that Pablo Neruda would consider a bit much.’

‘He calls you a genius, which…ugh, fine.’

‘You have certain gifts in a limited arena. Whatever.’

‘But more to the point, Richard, he thinks you’re cool.’

‘Cool, Richard.’

‘Do _you_ think you’re cool?’

‘He doesn’t, look at him. You don’t.’

‘It is not physically possible to even contain that level of delusion.’

‘Unless you’re blinded by love.’

‘Still, I mean’, says Dinesh, registering with satisfaction that Richard has the look of a man who was picking up daisies by the railroad track and caught the Orient Express down the small of his back, ‘you’ve probably noticed already.’

Richard swallows. Opens his mouth. Shuts it again. Opens it again. Shuts it again. Finally manages ‘When does this people things?’

Dinesh squints at Gilfoyle, and then decides to take a stab at answering. ‘A long time, man.’

‘Years’, says Gilfoyle.

Richard is looking from Dinesh to Gilfoyle, from Gilfoyle to Dinesh, hands twisting and untwisting in his lap. He looks like he’s being visited by the Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present and Future, Complete with Lunches Past, Present and Future, and they’re all talking to him at the same time in a language he doesn’t speak. He’s looking like a man staring down the muzzle of about ninety-nine emotions of an intensity he has nowhere near the processing power to handle, and the only thing keeping him conscious is that he doesn’t know what to feel first.

Then his digestive system solves the problem for him, as it always does.

Richard pitches out of his chair and runs full-tilt to the bathroom, where he heaves out every meal he has possibly ever had, his stomach, and his left lung.

Dinesh takes a photograph, using that Snapchat filter. He doesn’t bother to be discreet.

‘Send me that’, says Gilfoyle.

* * *

 

Jared comes back – with the promised antihistemines. He makes Richard take some and watches as Richard swallows.

Richard can _feel_ Dinesh and Gilfoyle watching and smirking.

He shuffles back to his workstation, and then grabs a laptop, mutters ‘I need to…do…in case I…sleep’ and bolts to his bedroom, ignoring Jared’s ‘oh dear, and they _promised_ me it was non-drowsy’.

Where he puts his earphones on to distract himself from a deafening chorus of internal screaming.

Jared’s in love with him?

Him.

Jared.

In love with him.

Richard.

Jared loves Richard.

It’s not…

It can’t….

That isn’t….

 _Does_ Jared stand so close to him?

Richard’s never…people are in general like a boorish chattering horrible mystery to him anyway, like everyone stands too close and talks too loud and looks at him too much. At least Jared speaks softly.

At least Jared smells nice.

At least Jared cares.

About Pied Piper! Cares about Pied Piper!

And him.

Well, yes. Okay. That. Yes. Well. It. Maybe. That.

I mean. Sure.

Jared cares for Richard.

But like, does Jared _care_ for Richard?

No.

Not like..

Like…

Like, Jared _admires_ Richard.

And he. Says things. That like. Feel like there’s a knife in Richard’s gut. A knife that’s also somehow like an electric eel. Because… okay, like, sure, it’s…uncomfortable? Because it’s…a lot, right? And yeah, okay, Richard might see that Jared can be a lot, but _everyone’s_ a lot, Richard fully acknowledges that he can be a lot, and really the problem is that while Richard is a lot, he doesn’t think he’s…whatever it is that Jared sees, but also it feels…sparky and tingly and like maybe if Richard concentrates he can find the guy that Jared’s talking about and maybe sometimes he can _be_ that person, because Jared seems to really like him, and he lives inside Richard and maybe…?

And what does that even. _What_?

Okay, no, this is..I mean, Jared looks after Richard, the way that…literally no CFO that Richard’s ever seen does with his CEO, Monica never looked out for Peter Gregory that way.

Right. And maybe Jared might..have a ....thing…for the guy that he sees in Richard, who is not Richard.

Lucky bastard.

What?

No, Richard tells himself firmly, it’s…Other Richard’s a lucky bastard because he is cool and honourable and, like, wise and shit. Not because..

Okay, moving on.

What kind of thing does Jared have for Richard?

Or..you know…like…what kind of thing does…Jared…have?

_What?_

No.

No no no no NO.

No. Jared is Richard’s CFO. He is his colleague. And, and, and that’s. How. It’s gonna be.

Right.

And now to at least _try_ to claw back some of the time he’s wasted having some sort of fucking middle school meltdown.

And then there’s a soft knock at the door, and – because that’s the kind of day this is – Jared appears.

‘Richard?’

Richard’s staring at Jared, wide-eyed. Jared’s slouching diffidently, like he does, apologising for taking up as much space as he does. He’s staring earnestly, intently at Richard, like he does, doing that thing that Richard knows he does, checking for moods, states of mind, it’s a systems check, the way that Richard does with the algorithm.

‘Richard, I wanted to…you’ve been there for some time, and the instructions say one pill every four hours, so I brought you the pill’, and he offers it, on a tray, with a glass of water and a sandwich.

‘You should have something to eat as well, you’ll want something to cushion your stomach. Dinesh and Gilfoyle said you were unwell earlier, and oh, Richard, you need to tell me these things so I can factor them in when I’m calibrating your dosage. I don’t want to alarm you unduly, but I’ve been reading some disturbing reports about the long-term impacts of capsules on the stomach lining, and my word, Richard, the photographs, it looked like the Dresden fire bombing.’

Jared trails off when he sees Richard’s face. ‘Oh – oh dear, I’m so sorry, Richard, don’t worry, I’ve been monitoring your use of medication, and unless you’ve started popping uppers and downers like it’s Studio 54 after I moved out, you really have nothing to worry about.’

‘No ups’, mumbles Richard. ‘No – downers.’

‘Good’, beams Jared. He places the tray gently by Richard. ‘I have watch, my Captain. All’s well.’

Richard nods, tightly. ‘It – yeah. Don’t – yeah. Don’t – worry, Jared, it –‘

‘Don’t _worry_?’, and Jared seems genuinely baffled. ‘Oh, Richard, how can you - it is my honour, Captain, my privilege, to spare you from the thousand natural shocks your flesh is heir to.’

‘I - ’

‘That your mind, Richard, your exquisite mind, is housed in a little tugboat, doing such, oh, such _valiant_ battle against the, the waves of distemper, and nausea, a veritable _sea_ of troubles, Richard, a vessel of such heartbreaking fragility, I could, oh’, and Richard sees, to his horror, tears well up from those blue, blue eyes, and is he, oh fuck, is he gonna have to…talk to Jared? Tell him that he…knows…but they can’t…and will they…fuck, how, Jared will be…oh God, he’ll be _hurt_ , Richard can’t, that’s unacceptable, to hurt Jared, like it’s a fucking…it’s a fucking _national tragedy_ when Jared cries, it’s not, he can’t, Richard can’t be the one to, but who, but how –

And then Jared sniffs, winks back the tears (which now just cast this, like, shimmer, over his eyes, so now they’re all shining and somehow even bluer), summons a smile and says ‘oh, Richard, I’d chew your food for you if I could. If I could part-digest it and regurgitate it into your mouth so I knew, I knew all the toxins had been processed, I’d –‘

‘ – What?’

 Jared blinks at Richard. ‘Well, Richard, what mother gull would do less?’

Richard stares at Jared for a long, long time. He knows, he _knows_ his expression has frozen while the rest of his face kinda…edges away from it, because no part of him is equipped to muster a response. Finally he speaks. ‘Mother?’

Jared nods. ‘Yes, of course. It isn’t only birds that do it, of course. Some otters do. Weasels as well. But bird societies operate so similarly to those of humans, especially modern-day Western nuclear families’, and Jared smiles a little wistfully, ‘or so I’m told.’

Richard clears his throat. ‘Mother?’

Jared stares and then turns delicately pink. ‘Oh.’

He pauses and then licks his lips. ‘I…I’m sorry, Richard, it’s…presumptuous…of me, I know, and of course I’d never seek to…replace any of the people you might consider your mother, but’ and he looks squarely at Richard, his eyes shining, ‘When I look at you, at what you’ve accomplished, at what you can become, Richard, how you battle with your demons, how you wrestle them and emerge victorious, I feel such…oh, I feel such _pride_. And I know, I know, I know I can’t pretend to, to, to have birthed you, but I, I, I could see the potential in your child, Richard, in Pied Piper, in your mind, in your spirit, I can’t, oh, let me take a little crumb of pride, Richard, in, in vainglory, in sitting with you and toiling in the dark and watching you become the man you are, it’s – ‘ he sniffs, tears starting again, ‘I’m, I’m, I am, I’m so proud.’

And then Jared smiles mistily at Richard, who cannot muster anything beyond a strangled ‘uh-huh.’

Richard watches, with bulging eyes, as Jared slips out of the room, and then he stares at his (thankfully perfectly intact and non-pre-digested) sandwich.

So.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle were wrong.

Jared doesn’t…

He never…

It’s just, like, _maternal_ affection.

Hence the sandwiches, and the collar-turning, and the admiration.

Sure.

Moms are allowed to do that.

And Richard feels like…a son?...to Jared.

He’s…

Yeah, he’s…

You know, he’s grateful? For the…sandwiches?

And the soft voice?

And the blue eyes?

They’re so blue.

Sons notice that kind of thing, right?

Yeah. Definitely…I mean, they’re right there, and they’re very blue, and very big, and…yeah.

Also Jared’s hands are big.

Which is also a thing that sons notice, because mothers make them things and fix things and where…else…do sons look?

Admittedly, Richard has no idea whether his, y’know, _actual_ mom’s hands are big or small and if you put a gun to his head he couldn’t tell you right now what colour his mom’s eyes are, but okay, yeah, fine, maybe he should give his mom a call.

Tomorrow.

But in the meantime, Jared is also his mom, right?

His sweet-smelling, blue-eyed mom with his long, long fingers.

So Richard’s, like, noticing these things, and he’ll Skype with his mom (maybe over the weekend) and then he’ll take careful note of what colour her eyes are (maybe next weekend) and then he’ll know these _totally normal things_ about both his moms.

Because Jared is his mom.

And Richard has a completely normal relationship with. That.

Totally normal.

Glad that’s resolved.


	2. Mary (Magdalene)

‘So, Proposal: Tell _Jared_ how he feels about Richard. Strengths?’

‘Jared’s face.’

‘Jared having a weird hyperverbal meltdown.’

‘Weaknesses?’

‘Jared talking to us. Like, about _anything_ related to his feelings.’

‘Isn’t that the same…’

‘ _Sexual_ feelings, Gilfoyle.’

‘Ah.’

‘In punishing detail.’

‘Hmmm. I think that one’s a threat. Opportunities?’

‘...Well, it’s like this. Like, obviously, it’s funny to have Richard mooning over Jared like a sad crying troll doll who needs someone to explain what his boner is or does.’

‘Obviously.’

‘And yeah sure, it’s fucking _hilarious_ to have Richard squeak ‘totally normal!’ any time either of us _looks_ at him, with, like, zero context or provocation. Which, I don’t even know _what_ that’s about, but no, Richard, no it’s not.’

‘Sure.’

‘And of course I die laughing when - ’

‘Look, can we just dispense with the preamble, we’ll be here all day.’

‘FATI.’

‘….What?’

‘Dictionary patch. Funny As This Is. FATI.’

‘Ah. Fine. FATI, the vibe here’s weird even for me.’

‘FATI, Richard’s work is shot to hell. Look at that SCRUM board.’

‘FATI, we need Richard to at least kinda get it together before the investor meeting.’

‘So.’

‘…Yeah, looks like we didn’t really have a choice, did we?’

* * *

 

‘So, Jared.’

Richard’s working in his room – which he’s been doing more and more recently, much to Dinesh and Gilfoyle’s relief – and Jared’s tapping away at his computer. He looks up inquiringly as they approach, radiating his typically earnest helpfulness.

‘What can I do for you, gentlemen?’

Dinesh looks at Gilfoyle. This, he’s aware, is going to be…trickier. It’s not just a question of detonate bomb, get out popcorn anymore. Jared’s not as easy to predict as Richard.

Oh, he’ll freak out, but in what direction and to what degree and in what form…hard to say.

Then he thinks of the glare of bewildered agony in Richard’s eyes, and decides to power through.

‘Jared, we know you have feelings for Richard.’

He says it gently – he’s taken an executive decision that he doesn’t want to spook Jared. And Gilfoyle seems to take the change of tack in stride, his silence sympathetic rather than accusatory.

Jared’s eyes widen a little, and then he says ‘Of course.’

Right.

Okay.

Well, of course Jared’s expected to be more self-aware than Richard, I mean anyone is. But still –

‘You’re taking this well’, says Gilfoyle.

‘Gilf’, says Jared, shaking his head indulgently, ‘Dinesh, guys, you had me worried for a moment. Of course I have feelings for Richard. I have feelings for all of you.’

And Dinesh’s brain freezes for a moment before he says, forcefully: ‘NO.’

Jared blinks, a little wounded.

‘NO’, says Dinesh, again. ‘Look, Jared, I know ‘this guy fucks’ and whatever, and like maybe you’re cool with it and maybe it might even be – okay, you know what?’ he says, as Gilfoyle’s head swivels to look at him, ‘never mind, we’re not – no.’

Jared’s frowning in bafflement. ‘Dinesh? I don’t understand.’

Dinesh stares at Jared. ‘Feelings. Jared, you said you had feelings for _all_ of us.’

‘Of course I do’, says Jared, blinking. ‘Dinesh, we’re – we’re a _family_.’

‘Family’, says Gilfoyle, stone-faced.

‘Don’t you _see_?’ says Jared, clasping his hands together and looking up at them, eyes shining like a cat proudly showing off his first kill. ‘You’re the older sons, both of you. You compete over scarce resources, and you’re obsessed with one-upping each other, but you love each other - ’

‘- Nope’, say Dinesh and Gilfoyle simultaneously. Jared beams at them.

‘Jinx! You owe each other a hug.’

‘Shut up, Jared’, say Dinesh and Gilfoyle simultaneously. Jared’s smile widens.

‘Double jinx! I don’t know what that would be…love! You owe each other love!’

‘Fuck off, Jared’, says Dinesh. Gilfoyle, thank God, doesn’t say it – God knows what Jared would have demanded they do if it had been triple jinx. Kissing? Blowjobs? Penetrative intercourse to orgasm? Who even –

But that does remind Dinesh that they’re getting sidetracked. ‘So anyway, Jared - ’

‘Yeah’, says Gilfoyle. ‘So if we’re a family, then you’re mom and Richard’s…’

‘Daddy?’, supplies Dinesh. Gilfoyle gives him an infinitesimal sideways smirk.

And now, fucking _finally_ , they’ve managed to surprise Jared. Shock him, even.

‘Daddy?’, he says, blankly. ‘No – oh, no, Dinesh. Why would – no, I’ve always thought of myself as a single mother.’

And what does that even – wait. ‘Single? So – who’s Richard, then?’

‘Why’, says Jared, smiling again, ‘he’s the _youngest_ son, of course.’

There is a very crowded silence at these words. Dinesh does not have the first idea of where to begin with this one, and it’s clear that neither does Gilfoyle.

Thankfully, Jared seems to want to explain.

‘Richard was the youngest, you understand, and we both suffered terribly at the hands of his father – that’s Hooli, well, Gavin really, Gavin’s threatened by Richard as Cronus was by Zeus, the powerful challenger who was destined to vanquish his father and feed him his own testicles.’ Jared nods encouragingly at Dinesh and Gilfoyle at this. Dinesh doesn’t know what it says about him that he basically takes the testicle-feeding in stride as Jared’s usual Fucked-Up White Noise. ‘And Richard struck out from beneath his father’s shadow, and I abandoned his father to protect Richard, and of course I love all my sons equally, but Richard and Pied Piper were birthed in obscurity, in darkness, like Rhea in Crete labouring to bring Zeus into the world.’

Jared beams at Dinesh and Gilfoyle, like he’s been explaining a cost benefit calculation or something. ‘So you see, I have feelings for all of you. How could I not?’

Dinesh opens his mouth to speak and then shuts it. He opens his mouth again. Third time’s the charm. ‘Jared. Are you saying that the…all the shit you do for Richard….that’s coming from, what, a _mother’s_ love?’

Jared nods, brightly. ‘Of course.’

‘ _Not_ of course’, says Dinesh. ‘Not of course at all. Jared, that means – that makes it all a million times more fucked up.’

‘Which also probably means it’s true’, says Gilfoyle, thoughtfully, great, fine time to remember how your vocal cords work, Bieber.

Jared’s frowning again. ‘F- why is everything more’ he coughs, ‘f-fricked-up?’

‘You!’ says Dinesh. ‘You and Richard! It was one thing when I thought you were in insane psycho stalker love with Richard, like it was inappropriate or whatever - ’

‘- but if I wanted sane and appropriate, I’d be at fucking Microsoft’, says Gilfoyle.

‘Right, we could deal. But now you tell me you’re his _mom_?’

‘I don’t understand’, says Jared, and he smiles that crinkly uncertain Slenderman Nightmare Rictus smile. ‘Is this – guys, are you…razzing me?’

And he has that hopeful Induction Into Adult Human Male Homosocial Ritual look. Which, Dinesh _knows_ that’s the look, because those are the exact words Jared has used.

‘Jared’, says Gilfoyle, ‘the way you are with Richard, you think that’s the way mothers are with their children?’

Jared nods. ‘Of course.’  His serene certainty seems to wane a little in the face of Dinesh and Gilfoyle’s stares. ‘My own – I mean, I can’t really use my foster mothers as an empirical model, but I assume…. I mean’ and he laughs, a little nervously, ‘you wouldn’t want me to make Richard go spelunking for his dinner in an abandoned mine-shaft like Auntie Greta made us do, now would you?’

‘Might be more normal’ mutters Dinesh, after the obligatory strained pause.

Jared’s frowning, looking more and more concerned. ‘You think I…you think I have…romantic designs on Richard?’

‘We’re saying’ says Gilfoyle, ‘that at this point, we desperately hope you want to fuck Richard.’

‘Or be fucked by him.’

‘I’ve found either position pleasurable’ says Jared, with his patented inability to prevent himself from Being Helpful.

Dinesh smacks Gilfoyle. ‘I fucking….I _knew_ he’d tell us shit like this. Without being asked. I _told_ you it was a weakness of the plan!’

‘Your homophobia is _your_ weakness, not the plan’s’, says Gilfoyle loftily, but Dinesh can see how queasy he looks behind his glasses.

Jared’s eyes are widening by the second. He looks hunted. ‘F- you – you think I want to…you think I’m in _love_ with Richard?’

‘Yes!’ says Dinesh, because he has a head full of Jared’s multiple layers of fucked-up and he has to cut through somehow. Then he looks at Jared’s stricken face and sighs. ‘Jared. Look. It’s not - ’

‘You’re wrong’, says Jared. His lips are compressed into a very thin line and his eyes are looking wide and terrified. ‘That’s – impossible, I would never – I couldn’t _sully_ our…’ he takes a breath. ‘Dinesh, Gilfoyle, I – guys, I still think the world of you, but – but, but this is…’ he seems to be hunting for a word that can do justice to his feelings without being, like, _rude_ , because oh heavens, oh noes, that would never do, ‘ _unnecessary_.’ Of course, this being Jared, the word’s delivered with such clenched vehemence that both Dinesh and Gilfoyle rock back. ‘I – I really think we’d better…’ he lets out a long breath and tries a horrible cracked-mirror facsimile of his usual chipper grin, ‘let’s get back to work, shall we?’

* * *

 

Jared doesn’t get any work done for the rest of the afternoon.

He tries, he really tries. They need to do a preliminary real options analysis of a process patent on a hexadecimal lattice layer that Richard’s built as a byproduct of the algorithm, and it would be such a nice thing to have in their back pocket before the RowanOakes meeting, and as with all real options analyses the result is incredibly sensitive to their assumptions, so Jared has to be prepared to defend his base parameters, and Jared promised himself he’d devote the afternoon to firming up the scenarios for the calculation, and he’d just hit his groove when Dinesh and Gilfoyle came up to him, and now….

Calming breaths, Jared tells himself. The thing to remember – the great thing – is that they’re obviously mistaken.

Obviously.

He loves Richard. Of course he does.

Richard is his bright shining hope, the reincarnation of Vishnu who will slay his evil uncle and restore peace and prosperity to the world. He is Arthur come to pull Excalibur from the stone. He is Jared’s Captain, his son, his darling, his best-beloved.

Maybe it’s that sort of language that gave Dinesh and Gilfoyle the wrong idea?

Because of course it’s the wrong idea.

Because while Jared loves Richard – and he does, he does, so much – his love is exalted, the love of striving and yearning, upwards, for worlds unattained, for realms to which language is not equal. It is Jared’s privilege to love Richard, to steady his hearth while he brings his gifts to an uncomprehending civilisation, to be reviled and execrated – crucified even – but be remembered in tears and thanks.

Would Dinesh and Gilfoyle say Mary’s love for Jesus was romantic?

Of course not.

Or Mary Magdalene’s?

Well, maybe. Jared knows there’s some debate on the subject, but Jared thinks it’s perfectly possible to be intensely, soul-consumingly devoted to someone without…without wanting to…although if Mary _did_ give her heart to Jesus and if Jesus were to…reciprocate, really reciprocate, because Jared thinks that it would be a little melancholy if the Messiah were to be motivated by, by co-dependency, or gratitude, but if the light of the world were to have a light in his heart for the woman who loved him, then…

The point is, there are so many ways to love someone.

And there are so many ways to notice someone.

Jared is allowed to notice that Richard is beautiful, in precisely the way that a Northern Cardinal is beautiful – bright and inquisitive and with a riotous exquisite crest, fierce and strong and uncompromising and heartbreakingly vulnerable all at once.

In just the way that that self-portrait of Turner is beautiful, with eyes burning through you and a mouth so full and sweet you could kiss it for years on end and know that it had not yielded up all its secrets.

Not that Richard’s mouth is like Turner’s. Richard’s mouth is thin and delicate, like Richard himself. It’s bitten scarlet with the demons rending Richard. Richard would bite when he kissed.

Not that Jared’s thought about kissing Richard.

Well, he _has_.

Richard would bite, those little teeth of his would nibble, he’s so hungry, hungry all the time, that fierce want, of course he’d bite, it would be a little dangerous, thinks Jared, but that would add heat to it, urgency, you’d be so present, you’d want to see that beautiful mobile face.

So yes, Jared has a _theory_ about how Richard would kiss.

But he’s thought _about_ kissing Richard – as a thought experiment – not about _kissing_ Richard, as an intention. There’s a difference.

In exactly the same way that Jared’s noticed Richard’s curls – his tossing, absurd, beautiful curls – but then how can you not? They riot about his forehead, they must distract him, they certainly do Jared, if Richard would let him brush them then they might…but that’s entirely different from wanting to…do anything about them.

Oh, Jared would love to brush them, though. Jared would use the special brush he saw at Macy’s and bought, in case Richard would ever honour him by letting him attend to him. It has silk bristles, and it’s supposed to be the very thing for ‘wayward hair’. Which Jared thinks is a wonderful word for Richard’s soft, tumbling curls.

Oh, to be allowed to gently, gently untangle the knots with his fingers. Massage his scalp – it’s a neglected area, Jared’s sure Richard doesn’t know how _miraculous_ it can be -  feel the tension leach away from Richard, take the weight as Richard’s head leans back slowly, slowly, his brows uncreasing, his beautiful tender eyelashes fluttering, his lips parting, a low soft moan escaping…

A moan of comfort. Of satisfaction. Of trust. Trust in his mate, his head of Business Development making Butch Cassidy feel good.

Not like that.

No, not like that.

That would be different.

Everything would be brighter, heightened, Richard’s teeth digging into his lips, his cheeks washed scarlet, everything would be sharper, wouldn’t it, clearer, everything would be so much closer, it…

Yes, Jared has a _theory_.

Which is very, very different from wanting to…

Wanting…

Jared would never _dream_ of…

Of course, if Richard needed this from Jared, then…

Oh.

 _Oh_.

And Jared sits up straight, horrified.

Is that….

That can’t be….

Oh, Donald, what have you done?

It would be one thing, he thinks, if all he were guilty of were loving Richard – oh, that’s surely inevitable, it’s like gravity, could you blame a frozen robin in winter for falling out of a tree? But the mask – the false, deceitful mask - of friend, of confidant, of sympathetic advisor, that Jared has worn, to insinuate himself past Richard’s defences, to, to paw at him under the guise of friendship, of care…oh Donald, Donald, _Donald_ . You’re no Mary, you’re no Mary Magdalene, you’re _Judas_.

One by one, like sorrowful accusers, he sees every touch, every smile, every proffered hug, every glance, every moment that he’s hoarded and gloated over like the tawdry, lecherous traitor that he’s sleep-walked into becoming.

His evasions, his prevarications, his rationalisations, he sees them now as the shoddy, threadbare fig-leaves his sobbing psyche is constructing to cover his shame.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle could see it. Have seen it, presumably for – oh, how long, Donald, how long have you been lying to yourself and to Richard?

Richard.

Have they told him?

Has Richard – oh, has Richard seen through to Jared’s dark, lustful heart, his self-deluding treachery?

Could he have?

That – and Jared’s hand flies up to his chest – oh, Richard’s been secreting himself away in his room for the past few days, he’s been so secretive, so strange, he jumps when Jared talks to him, he ducks his head whenever Jared turns to look at him, that must be it. Richard knows. Richard knows, and oh what must he think? Could Jared blame him for turning from him, for his revulsion? Jared will not tax him, he will not ask for pity, it is a craven, snivelling excuse to say that Jared didn’t know, he hid himself from himself too well, he has to, he’s had to learn to, but he couldn’t have known that it would come to this.

But it has, it has, and Jared must face up to the truth, of what he is, what he has become, of the beautiful thing he has smirched, his inky lusts forever tarnishing Pied Piper’s fragile, delicate heart.

But no longer.

Jared takes a breath, and opens up the letter of resignation saved in his personal folder.

All he has to change is the date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to the lovely and talented Master of Beef her ain sel', @ladiesloveduranduran, for steering me gently off a very problematic cliff.


	3. Lord of the Cock-Rings

Richard's in hell.

It's not an exaggeration, or an opinion, but bone-hard medical fact.

Emphasis on 'bone'.

Also on 'hard'.

Because Richard's libido, which had been locked up in a windowless basement like it deserved, guarded by the steely-eyed wardens of Denial, Constant Panic and Nausea, has been sprung by Dinesh and Gilfoyle's fuckwittery. It has hulked out. It has bought a copy of the Anarchist's Cookbook. It is going on a fucking  _rampage_.

Because look. Richard's talked with his mom. He stared like a creeper at her face the whole time, and told himself that the vague, I'll-miss-her-when-she's-not-around-for-me-to-avoid affection he feels for her is exactly the same way he feels for Jared. Tall, sweet-smelling Jared with his sweaters and his hands and his eyes and his soft voice.

Exactly the same.

Basically exactly the same.

'Exactly the same', he kept repeating to himself. He thought if he concentrated hard enough the message might sink in. He concentrated so hard he gave himself a migraine. And then threw up. And had Jared rub soothing circles onto his back. Which didn't even soothe him like they used to because he was crying with mortification at puking in front of a cute boy. Jared. Jared is the cute boy. Jared, Richard's CFO and self-appointed surrogate mom, is the cute boy.

Which Richard's libido, pawing at the ground, would like Richard to notice. And keep noticing. And never, ever, ever to forget.

And it's like....it's not like the constant panic's gone anywhere. They have an investor meeting. Richard's behind with the build, he knows he is, like he was behind even before..

And now it's like...

He doesn't have  _time_  for weirdly specific G-rated daydreams where they're in the kitchen and Jared's long fingers are wrapping around a tea-mug and he lifts the mug to his lips and Richard walks in and he looks up and smiles this smile that Richard's seen only a few times, like they're sharing something fragile and precious and rare and Richard's shown Jared its secret meaning and only they will ever know it.

 _That_  smile.

Or, like. They're in bed, but they're fully clothed, they're not even doing anything, like maybe Richard has his head on Jared's chest, and those long fingers are just kinda...walking down Richard's back. And Richard smiles against Jared's chest because he feels so safe and Jared smells so nice.

Or, or, or they're doing the crossword. And from time to time Richard just kinda...absent-mindedly reaches out for Jared's hand and maybe if Richard's feeling adventurous he kisses his knuckles.

Which, like. That's bad enough. That's already 150% over Richard's capacity for dealing with  _anything_.

But now Richard's boner is loose, and it will  _see_  your weirdly specific G-rated daydreams and raise you insanely detailed and anatomically implausible kaleidoscopes of shuddering cocks and vivid, Jackson Pollock-esque geysers of bodily fluids.

For example, Richard's boner would very much like to fuck Jared's mouth. Richard's boner thinks it would feel amazing stretched out around him. Richard's boner has painted thick, vibrant sense-poems of  _soft_  and  _wet_  and  _hot_  and the little  _pop_  as Richard's cock enters and leaves and the pink of those lips and springy lush dark hair between Richard's fingers and low deep moans  _Richard Richard Richard_  and those eyes those blue blue eyes staring worshipfully into Richard's, glazed with lust, and those long thumbs keeping Richard upright and and and

Richard's boner also thinks Jared's face would flush so fucking…magnificently (yes, let’s use a Jared word there) when Jared's sliding into Richard.

Richard's boner has  _opinions_  about Jared's dick. Sometimes Richard's boner thinks Jared's dick is long and slender. Sometimes Richard's boner thinks it's long and surprisingly thick, like all Jared's nutrition goes to chubbing up his dick instead of building muscle mass or the density of like any other bones. But long or short, thick or thin, on one thing Richard's boner is absolutely resolved. That Jared's dick? Is bound to be beautiful, has Richard seen his hands, stands to reason, come on. Richard's boner thinks the way it would feel inside Richard would make Richard's entire sorry existence worth it.

Richard's boner is extremely enthusiastic about these things.

Well, these things and others, but when Richard was presented with some of the other options he nearly blacked out. And then had to excuse himself and stumble into his bunk-bed with one hand down his pants and the other balled into a fist stuffed into his mouth to swallow his screams. And then rub frantically at himself until he was wrung out and limp and basically coming tears.

So out of self-preservation, or maybe disgust, Richard's boner hasn't gotten any more detailed, contenting itself with excitable yapping about Jared's mouth and fingers every time Richard goes out to the main work area.

Which, of course, Richard isn't doing very often these days.

No, Richard's holed up in his room, fucking... _besieged_....by fucking swoony gauzy Hallmark Channel Life Insurance Commercial rhapsodies about himself and Jared dipping their toes into, like, a lake in like New England or something, which what even, it involves the outside, and there are probably mosquitoes, and like ticks or something, it's five thousand strains of Lyme Disease waiting to happen, but the sun's setting over the mountains and Jared's eyes are so blue and his long, long fingers are laced through Richard's and it's just....

And when that's not happening, it's fucking....Cock o'Clock. PenisPalooza. Richard's never thought he had an artistic bone in his body, but one particular bone is very, very good at painting very, very specific pictures. 

And also at dragging Richard out of his bedroom from time to time, ostensibly for a meal or to check on the other guys, but mainly so that Richard's boner can have a nice long furtive ogle at Jared's fingers dancing over his keyboard and can twitch in Richard's pants like it's some kind of horrible, single-purpose antenna.

Or sometimes Jared will look up and Richard's gaze gets, like,  _snared_  in his, and it is literally all he can do to just...turn tail and fucking  _book it_  back to his room. 

So, yeah, all in all it's been....difficult.

Richard's staring at the code on his desk, hoping against hope that it will either start making sense to him, or at the very least that he can work up some  _interest_  in it, when there's a tentative knock at the door.

It's Jared, of course it's Jared. It's the timbre of the knock. It's diffident. Self-effacing. A preemptively I'm-wasting-your-time-I'm-so-terribly-sorry-to-intrude-my-personal-preoccupations-on-you knock.

Richard, of course, has decided it's adorable, because it's Jared and Richard's out of his mind and can't be trusted with.... _anything_  right now, frankly, but especially any objective assessment of Jared.

Jared sidles in, holding a bunch of documents. Richard's not sure what's going on that he needs to look at or sign so many, but then he knows that there are a million mysterious organisational and administrative...things.....that Jared attends to, fusses over, worries at so that Richard doesn't have to think about them, a million tiny lumps in the constantly congealing oatmeal that is life as the CEO of the Next Big Thing If He Could Only Get Out Of Its Way.

'Richard?' Jared's looking a little nervous, cheeks a little pink, it's....fetching, thinks Richard, which is a phrase he has used a grand total of zero times before now, what is  _happening_.

Richard nods, he hopes encouragingly. Jared swallows and licks his lips.

'TONGUE!' screeches Richard's boner, because of course. Of course its eloquence is confined to the privacy of Richard’s bedroom. When they’re all alone in Richard’s private Multiplex of Hell, it's perfectly capable of projecting lavishly detailed, epic fuck-fantasies like some kind of pornographic Tolkien (Lord of the Cock-Rings, supplies Richard’s brain helpfully, that’s what a pornographic Tolkien would be, yes thank you Hendricks, thank you for your input, now shut up forever).

But Jared's mere physical proximity? Reduces Cecil B. DeDick to monosyllabic frothing.

 _Shut_ up _, Boner_ , Richard mutters inwardly -  _God_ , he hopes it's inwardly.

'MOUTH!'

 _Shut UP_.

'...I'm sending you the slide deck with the preliminary real options calculations, Richard, with some scenarios that RowanOakes might find relevant. I've done some sensitivity analysis and it looks pretty robust, I wouldn't worry, but...Richard?'

Richard blinks. 'Y-yeah, Jared?'

There's a crease between Jared's brows. He takes a tentative step forward, one giant hand reaching out ('HANDS!' ' _SHUT. UP. BONER_ ') before he snatches it back, clamping it firmly by his side.

'I - ' Jared coughs. 'You seem...distracted.'

('I'LL DISTRACT YOU I'LL DISTRACT YOUR  _BRAINS_  OUT.' 'Ohmygod shut.up.boner.')

Richard writhes in his chair and twitches. 'N - I just...it's...no, I....'

He sighs. Tries again. 'Don't...it's fine, Jared, you don't have to...'

Jared's watching him, head to one side, and it strikes Richard that he's looking...I mean he looks lovely, of course, just...fucking  _beautiful_ , but also...not....great?

Worried.

Strained.

There are shadows under his eyes, those absurd blue eyes that have so fucking  _plagued_  Richard lately. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping, why, what's the matter, what's happened to Jared, there's nothing going on with Pied Piper, well nothing out of the ordinary, so what is this, this is personal, what is, who is, what has

'Jared, what's wrong?'

Jared starts. His eyes fly to Richard's and then dart away. He looks stricken, thinks Richard.  _Guilt_ -stricken. This is what Jared looks like when he's about to tell Richard a comforting lie.

‘Jared? Jared, what’s wrong?’

It’s coming out wrong, thinks Richard, despairingly. He sounds…petulant. He’s fucking  _snapping_  at Jared like he’s caught him with his hand in the till, like Jared’s a fucking  _criminal_ , and he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to, he wants to…make. Jared....

Jared’s looking lost, and defenceless, and boundlessly sad, and Richard never ever wants him to look like that, ever again, and definitely not around him.

Richard wants Jared to look. To look like….

Dream Jared. Jared with his toes in that goddamn New England lake and his shirt unbuttoned enough that Richard can see his collarbone and the breeze stirring his hair. Jared looking young and untroubled and tender and sweet.

Richard wants to do that for Jared. He wants Jared’s forehead to uncrease. He wants to. Give him. That. He wants to… he wants to. Fix. Things. For Jared. He wants Jared to smile, that watery smile with his eyes shining that make Richard feel…hot and tight and and and squirmy and he’s just now figuring out why.

Richard manages to say none of this. Instead he says ‘Tell me, Jared.’

That’s…better. Softer. Gentler. More...better.

So he’s not ready for Jared’s shudder. A fierce, full-body convulsion, like Richard’s thrown a snake at him.

‘Don’t be…’ and Jared swallows, ‘please don’t. Be.  _Kind_. to me.’

And what. The fuck. Does that even. Richard isn’t, he isn’t. Kind. As a general thing. Like, he tries not to be a…but that doesn’t mean he’s…

‘K-kind? Jared, I - ’

‘Richard’, says Jared, and he’s squared his shoulders, he’s resolved to do…something, that’s for sure, it’s not like Jared to interrupt. ‘I – we need to talk.’

Richard blinks. ‘We – we  _are_  talking.’

‘Yes, I - ’ Jared sighs. ‘Richard, our…situation. It’s…untenable.’

Richard jolts. Their…situation? Is this…oh fuck, is this…is Jared…

Because Jared’s noticed, of course he has, he can’t  _not_  have noticed that Richard lurks in his room nowadays and only comes out for food or a piss or to fucking leer at him and then scuttle away to his room when he catches Jared looking. Like a roach when the lights are switched on.

‘S-situation?’

Jared nods, looking paler by the minute. ‘Richard, we can’t go on like this.’

Richard nods back. The boner’s shut up, he’s noticed. That’s  _one_  small blessing, anyway.

Jared swallows. ‘Richard, I – you’ve been so kind, so – oh, Captain, you’ve been so…so  _forbearing_ , I don’t know what I could ever have done to deserve this, but I - ’ he draws himself up, throws his skinny shoulders back, puts the documents down by Richard.

Taps the top one.

‘My letter of resignation, Richard.’

And he turns and marches out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to the lovely people of the SV Discord for enduring my handwringing about this chapter - about which, by the way, I am still fundamentally unconvinced. 
> 
> And my thanks to Beefmaster for fixing, or at least improving, the timing of that 'Lord of the Cock-Rings' thing.


	4. Kiss You Everywhere

Richard stares at the letter for what feels like years.

A form letter.

A fucking _form letter_.

The same form letter that Jared used when he resigned before.

Jared’s always resigning.

Fucking _always_.

And yes, Richard knows that twice isn’t technically the same as always and anyway Richard fired him that one time and also Jared came back and Richard doesn’t want to hear it because Jared’s _leaving_.

And. And it’s. The reason’s.

Richard.

Again.

Not..not breaking the law or barbecuing people’s junk like last time.

But.

Being. Being a bug-eyed pervert slobbering over Jared when all Jared ever wanted to do was be. Like. Richard’s _mom_. And like. Look after him. And fix things. And. And make him sandwiches. And tuck in his shirt. And be. And do. And, and, and

Richard should.

Is it. Better. For Jared. To not. To.

Maybe.

Be out.

Be. Safe.

Away from Richard’s whole…clusterfuck of a deal.

Yeah.

Better.

Yes.

And Richard wants. Better. For Jared.

So he’s gonna.

Let Jared.

It’ll be…better.

And maybe with Jared…not….there, this whole… _this_ ….will..stop?

So. Better.

Yeah.

Definitely better.

Richard’s just gonna…sit here, congratulating himself on how much better and more mature and fucking _noble_ he’s being.

Which is of course when he realises that his boner’s already halfway out the door and Richard has to lurch to his feet to follow.

When Richard bursts into the hall, Jared’s already packed up most of his stuff into a little cardboard box.

‘Jared?’ says Dinesh. ‘What are you doing?’

Jared pauses and gives Dinesh this…tight little smile. ‘I just gave Richard my letter of resignation.’

‘ _What?!?_ ’

Jared pauses and Richard can see him compose some kind of…careful biz-speak horseshit, like he’s already fading away and becoming a Hooli zombie, before their eyes, Richard can’t bear it, it’s horrible, like he’s going grey somehow, ‘I’ve decided that our association has…run its fruitful course. I’ve been so honoured to work with you all’ and it’s like Jared swims to the surface, just a little, and it’s worse, somehow, like a thousand times worse, it breaks Richard’s heart, ‘please, guys, you have to believe that, it’s, it’s meant the world to me, I - ’

‘But _why_?’

Jared doesn’t look at Richard, even once, and fuck, no, how, how can he even, not even _once_ , and like Richard knows he’s being, being loyal, like Jared would cut his own tongue out before he said _The way Richard looks at me, I want a shower afterwards_ , or _Your CEO keeps looking at me like he wants to hump my leg_ , or _I feel prickly and unsafe around Richard because he keeps staring at me and it’s weirding me the fuck out_ , Jared’s ride or die, he’ll take it to the grave, Richard knows, but _look at me goddammit_.

‘What did you do, Richard?’ says Gilfoyle, it’s not even angry or surprised.

‘Nothing’ says Jared, quickly, way too quickly, like a hundred times too quickly, Jared’s the worst liar in the world, Richard has to talk to him about that, not that he, y’know, wants him to lie better, or, like, needs him to, but, and, fuck, he may not ever get the chance again, Jared, _Jared_.

Gilfoyle and Dinesh don’t even bother with Jared’s little bleat, their heads just swing around to stare at Richard.

‘Nothing’, says Jared again, looking pink and upset and with his eyes all shiny in that way he has. ‘I’ll.. I’d better go, my Lyft…’

 _Say something_ , screams Richard’s boner, _he’s leaving, he’s fucking_ leaving _, he’s upset, say you’re sorry, ask to talk, fucking_ do _something,_ anything.

Richard clears his throat. ‘Notice?’, he says.

Jared frowns. ‘I don’t – ‘

‘Two weeks’ notice’, says Richard. ‘Employee handbook. You have to. Two weeks.’

There’s a silence.

‘I hate you’, says Richard’s boner, in a conversational tone. ‘Fucking…when I said to say something, why would _this_ be what you said. Why. _Why_.’

‘Jesus’, mutters Dinesh.

Jared’s looking a little surprised, but he answers readily enough. ‘I’ll work the rest of my time, of course, Richard, whatever you need, but I’ll work from home, it’ll be seamless, I promise, I’ve lined up some candidates already, and, oh’, as his phone goes off, ‘there’s my Lyft. I’ll – goodbye, Dinesh, Gilf’ and he swallows, looks up for like a nanosecond at Richard, ‘goodbye, Captain.’

And he fucking… _bolts_ out of the house.

Thankfully, Richard’s gotten the memo from his boner, so he’s straight after Jared. He only bangs into the desk, like, once, too. So, you know.

‘Jared.’

He can see it, see Jared arguing with himself about whether to even turn to face him, it’s in the way his shoulders slump and then square, in the careful way he begins to turn on his heel, he can’t bear it, he isn’t, isn’t a fucking _ogre_ , he’s not gonna, he can’t –

His hand’s on Jared’s shoulder before he knows what’s happening, he’s staring up into Jared’s face, _look at me, look at me, look at me, goddammit_.

Jared’s eyes are very wide and his breath’s coming very quickly. ‘Richard?’

And, yes. Words. Right. Things to. With the opening. Of the mouth. And. Right. ‘Why?’

Jared’s eyes widen even more before they fall. ‘Richard, please, I - ’

‘Why?’, says Richard. ‘It. Just – all I need. Just. Why?’

He can see Jared’s Adam’s apple bob. ‘Please, Richard, can we just - ’

‘No’, says Richard, ‘I – I think I – I know, I think, but I just need – I’m not – I’m not gonna – you can, I’ll let you, you don’t even have to, I’ll, I’ll waive the, the notice, whatever you need, I just - ’

‘Please’, says Jared, and fuck, fuck, is he, yes he is, there are tears in the corners of his eyes, no, why, please Jared no, ‘if you know already, Richard, we don’t have to talk about it, I’ve, I’ve taken steps already, I’ll never let it trouble you, Richard, I promise, I - ’

‘That’s not what I - ’ begins Richard.

‘I never, Richard, I never meant for any of this to - ’

‘Jared, I didn’t mean - ’

‘For my feelings to - ’

‘To, to have feel – wait’, says Richard, as his ears signal frantically to him, ‘ _your_ feelings?’

Jared blinks at him, surprised. ‘Yes, my – Richard, I thought – didn’t you _know_?’

‘FEELINGS!’ screeches Richard’s boner. Richard takes in a very deep breath. He has to, otherwise he’s. He’s not feeling. The most. Stable? Right now.

‘The…mom thing?’ says Richard. Carefully. As calmly as he can.

Jared blushes and then goes very very pale. It’s…fucking _entrancing_. ‘N-no.’ His eyes fly up to Richard’s, and he looks so fucking…stricken, so beautiful, that Richard has to take another very deep breath through his nose. ‘I – oh, Richard, I didn’t mean, I didn’t _know_ , I thought, I knew I loved you, but I didn’t know _how_ , I promise, and when you, you confided in me, when you let me close, when you _honoured_ me, Richard, I’ll never forget it, I’ll never forget the trust, the privilege, the unthinkable kindness, it’ and Jared sniffs, he has to put down that goddamn box to fumble for a tissue, and when he looks at Richard, his eyes tear-bright and blue blue blue, it’s, it’s, ‘but you weren’t to know, Richard, you couldn’t, I didn’t, which doesn’t, I’m not, not excusing it, my, my betrayal, but - ’ he squares his shoulders and looks at Richard, ‘Captain, it’s been a pleasure to serve under you.’

‘SERVE’, says Richard’s boner, ‘UNDER!’, _shut up boner_. ‘B-betrayal?’

Jared nods, a watery nod. ‘Of course, Richard. You – you weren’t to know, Richard, how could you, how could you tell what darkness slumbered in my breast?’

‘Ggggkkkkk’, says Richard’s boner.

‘Darkness?’

Jared nods again. ‘Richard, you – you don’t know, you can’t have known, _I_ didn’t know, what – oh, Richard, the things I want to do to you.’

Jared’s voice is. It’s. Like he’s. Staring at something inside himself. Something deep. And dark. And, and, and –

‘Nnnnnggggghhhhh’, says Richard’s boner, and Richard can’t really blame it.

‘What’, says Richard, and the words die on his lips. He swallows. Tries again. ‘What. Things. Do you. Do to. Want. To do. To me?’

Jared cringes. ‘Richard, please, do we have to - ’

‘Yes’, shout Richard and his boner simultaneously. ‘I mean - ’, Richard coughs, ‘how can I. Help you. If I don’t. What things?’

Jared looks away and down. Richard can see his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. Finally he says, so softly Richard almost can’t hear him, ‘I want…I want to kiss you.’

And they’re. It’s so simple, so…chaste, even. But the weight of Jared’s words, the dark chocolate-brown weight, they just….sink straight down to Richard’s dick, he’s, he’s flooded with thick whirling barely-sketched-in _wantwantwant_ , his mouth’s dry, he…

And then Jared raises his eyes to Richard and says ‘I want to kiss you… _everywhere_.’

And. It’s. Entirely possible, thinks Richard, that he’ll die. Just…kinda pass out and never come back. And. Look. Okay, it’s not a. _Bad_. Way to go. Finding out that. That Jared Dunn. _Jared Dunn_. Wants to. Kiss you. Everywhere. Everywhere? I mean. _Everywhere_? Because like. There are a few – _everywhere_?

No. No. No, it’s a fucking… _terrible_ way to go, actually. Because. Finding out that…is good, no, it’s fucking…it’s _amazing_ , but if Richard doesn’t at least get _some_ of those kisses (everywhere? He said everywhere, right, Jared said everywhere, that had to mean, like, _on Richard_ everywhere instead of, like, _geographically_ everywhere, although even that would be…oh Jesus, even that..it…)

And just as Richard’s about to say something (he’s not…completely clear on what, but he figures ‘please’ is a big part of it), Jared coughs. ‘I’m, I’m so sorry, Richard. I never meant – I never dreamed – that I’d – that I could – betray your trust so, I’ll - ’

‘NO!’ shout Richard and his boner simultaneously. Richard’s still holding Jared’s shoulder, he realises, fingers digging in so hard Jared flinches a little. ‘I’m – I’m sorry, Jared, I - ’ and he relaxes his hold a little. Not – not completely, he doesn’t – Jared might run away. Also Richard thinks he might fall. So. Basically. Just. He’s gonna. Hold on for a while. ‘But – no – betrayal, no, I - ’ and he takes a deep breath, ‘Jared, I – I f-feel the s-’

‘ _Not_ the same’, cuts in Richard’s boner. ‘You _don’t_ feel the same way, _pray_ you don’t feel the same way as him, one of you has to know what he’s doing, your best plan is to rub yourself all over him and come in your pants and cry. And not even always in that order.’

Richard swallows. ‘I – Jared, I - ’

‘Richard?’ Jared’s staring at him, eyes just…drinking him in, so worried, like Richard’s Jared’s whole world, and Richard. Just….

‘I like you’, says Richard. ‘Fuck, I – I like you _so much_ , you have no idea, I, Jared, I - ’ and he reaches for Jared, but Jared puts out a hand, and he’s, he’s, his eyes are doing so many things it’s, Richard can’t keep up, he’s dizzy, but he’s not, why isn’t he grabbing Richard, what, why –

‘Richard, I - ’ Jared swallows, ‘is this – is it – it’s…Stockholm Syndrome, it happens, in, in positions of, of stress, of, of prolonged, claustrophobic contact, you can, it’s, it’s easy to mistake for intimacy, I know, I’ve, I’ve done it before, in the bunker there was…well, I’ve done it before, you can’t, you can’t possibly, Richard, it’s so, I, I thought I, when I, because I cared for you, because I wanted you to take care of yourself, I, I thought I was your _mother_ , Richard, I don’t, Richard, I don’t have – a family, have empirical models for what it’s like to, to, you mustn’t, I’m not safe, Richard, please - ’

And there’s so much in the swirling mist of words trying to crowd their way out of his mouth, all _It’s not Stockholm Syndrome and even if it is I don’t fucking care we’ll never know will we if you stay if you stay and you never ever leave me you’re safe and even if you’re not I don’t care I don’t fucking_ care _you’re perfect you’re perfect you don’t_ need _empirical models of anything the way you care is perfect_ you’re _perfect nobody will ever hurt you ever again what bunker never mind tell me later tell me everything just just just…._

Instead, Richard says ‘Mother.’

When Jared stares at him, he elaborates: ‘My. My mother. I have. A mom. I’ll – you can. Meet her. She’s. A mom.’ And because Jared doesn’t seem to understand, he goes on: ‘Because you – you said. Empirical. Models. So. You can. She’s. A mom. So you can. And that’s how you’ll. Know that. You’re. You’re fine.’

There’s a silence as Jared turns the words over.

‘Did you’, says Richard’s boner with frozen calm, ‘just offer to introduce your mom to a cute boy before you even asked him out on a date?’

And.

Well.

Yes.

And Richard’s about to pull his hoodie over his head and book it for the bathtub, when he feels a soft touch on his shoulder, and meets two eyes brighter than the fucking _sun_.

‘Richard’, says Jared, with a tentative, flickering smile, ‘are you - ’

‘Yes’, says Richard, ‘fuck – please, Jared, I can’t, I can’t tell you what’s, what’s real or, or, stress, or like close contact, or whatever, but, but I’ and Jared’s lips part and Richard can feel it, the creaking of his wobbling, overstretched control, ‘please, I – kiss? One? Just one, please, just, and then you can, I promise, but I need, just - ’

And Jared bends his head to kiss him, and oh Richard already knows it was a lie, what he said, it’s not enough, one’s never going to be enough, he’ll track Jared down to the ends of the fucking _earth_ for another if he has to, it’s, oh God, it’s, it’s, it’s…

But oh thank fuck, Jared seems to feel the same way, there’s a low little moan and then his mouth’s back, he shifts the angle just so, nibbles at Richard’s bottom lip just so, slips in his tongue and _yes fucking Christ yes_.

* * *

 

‘Did we have ‘possibility of Jared and Richard making out in the driveway’ as a weakness of the plan?’

‘I mean, we didn’t have ‘possibility of Jared quitting Pied Piper because he’s a huge fucking drama queen’ as a threat either, so…’

‘Or ‘possibility of watching Richard climb Jared like a tree’?’

‘I mean, I don’t think Richard’s ever climbed a tree in his entire life, so…’

‘He’s not climbing this one, anyway.’

‘No, he’s just…humping Jared’s leg. Which…I can now never unsee. So.’

‘I guess someone told Richard what his boner does.’

‘He’s…Jesus, he’s got his hand under his pants now.’

‘Who? Jared?’

‘No, Rich- oh, both of them. Fuck, I was expecting _Richard_ to go berserk, but Jared’s had sex at least, like, _once_ since the invention of the Blu-Ray.’

‘Maybe Richard’s a bad influence on him.’

‘I mean, clearly.’

Silence.

‘…They’re really going for it. Should we, like, turn the hose on them or something?’

‘Nah, let ‘em. We’ll stop them before they, y’know, actually fuck in the driveway.’

‘Yeah.’

Silence.

‘Although…’

‘Go on.’

SWOT Board 3:

‘Proposal: Allow Jared and Richard to bone in the driveway. Strengths?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know where Jared's Lyft is either. To be fair, I'd probably cancel if I showed up and my fare had a twitchy goblin-y man attached.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me about these idiots on [itsevidentvery](https://itsevidentvery.tumblr.com/).


End file.
